Written between 1879 and 1888, Brahms’s three violin sonatas are the work of a man in his creative prime. Between them, they cover a considerable emotional span, from the lyrical, ultimately wistful G major with its rain-dappled finale to the structural complexities of the fiery D minor. The central A major sonata, good natured yet intimate, is one of the composer’s sunniest and most endearing works.
James Ehnes and Andrew Armstrong met in Winnipeg in 1991 when the Canadian violinist was 15 years old and the American pianist was 17. The longevity of their partnership pays dividends here in performances that exude an effortless rightness. In the opening of the G major, Armstrong is the wind beneath Ehnes’s wings, the two musicians in artistic lockstep, even if the recorded sound favours the brightness of the violin. Pacing is assured, phrasing shapely. The gently pattering finale, with Ehnes’s graceful double-stopping, suggests remembrances of times past.
In the A major sonata, the tone is ideally conversational, readily evoking 35 years of friendship. A soaring andante frames a lightly sprung ländler followed by a gently questioning allegretto grazioso. Technical assurance is a hallmark of the impassioned D minor sonata, where Armstrong’s chuntering rhythms are counterpoised with full-blooded acrobatics on violin.
Throughout, Ehnes eschews the leaner, edgier approach of, say Alina Ibragimova or Anthony Marwood. Instead, his seamless partnership with Armstrong bears comparison with the classic accounts of Josef Suk and Julius Katchen.
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